


The Gifts

by MissDorktastic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Ginny tries really hard to make her friend happy, Harry is cranky but loyal af, I really embarrass Hermione here, I went full fluff, Ministry of Magic workplace fic, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Ron is awesome, Soft Draco Malfoy, Some OOCness, she's a mess when it comes to her crush, these nerds..., they say never go full fluff, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-11-19 11:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18135317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDorktastic/pseuds/MissDorktastic
Summary: Hermione Granger didn't anticipate her growing feelings for fellow Ministry official, Draco Malfoy. She certainly didn't anticipate staving off an obsessive match-making friend. Nor did she anticipate receiving a surprising request from an oblivious wingman.One thing she absolutely did anticipate--was how good she can make an already awkward situation even worse.OR...In which Hermione Granger gracelessly stumbles into love.





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

Hermione should have known she was in trouble when Ginny surprised her with a gift. Not that it wasn't thoughtful of her, of course. Ginny was good at many things, but gift-giving was _not_ one of them. It was an inside joke in her family, one she was oblivious to, but the fact of the matter was, Ginny Potter was a notoriously bad gift giver.

This last Christmas, she had given Harry sock garters for Godric's sake. _Sock. Garters._ And she was so proud of herself. When Harry opened the lumpy package, Ginny exclaimed how he was always complaining about his socks falling down. In all the years Hermione had been friends with Harry, she had not _once_ heard him complain of such a thing.

Harry's mouth contorted into the most painful smile Hermione had ever seen, while Ron hid his face in his eggnog and George cackled in the background.

Now here she was, in a bustling cafe, watching Ginny scramble over to her with the harried look of a mother of three young children, though her children were nowhere present.

Ginny collapsed breathlessly in the chair across from Hermione, shopping bags strewn about. “I only have thirty-seven minutes until I have to pick up the children from mum's.”

“Well, that's perfect because my lunch break ends in forty,” Hermione answered. She leaned over the small table to plant a kiss on Ginny's cheek.

“Thanks for meeting me. I know it was short notice,” Ginny said, glancing quickly at the menu.

“Oh, please.” Hermione waved a hand. “I prefer a luncheon with you than the stack of reports and my sad, little sandwich any day of the week.”

Ginny smiled at that, still looking pretty even though she looked exhausted. “How is being the right-hand-woman to the Minister of Magic anyway?”

Hermione snorted. “I'm not really his right-hand-woman. I mainly push papers between the departments.”

“Please, we all know you run the place,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Hermione smiled at her friend. "Maybe some day."

A waiter stopped by their table and took their order, while Ginny rearranged her bags.

Hermione sipped her tea as Ginny updated her about the kids, Harry and life in general.

“I must say,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “Everyday that passes my respect for my mother grows exponentially.”

“She is an amazing woman and so are you,” Hermione answered, matter-of-fact.

Ginny sighed. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”

Hermione smiled. “I think it's been almost a week.”

Lunch arrived and their chatting was whittled down to Ministry gossip, which Hermione rarely indulged in unless it was with Ginny. Then Ginny delicately wiped her mouth and gave Hermione a mischievous look. “I have a little gift for you.”

Hermione's heart skipped. She tried desperately to keep the growing dismay from reaching her face. “Really?” she said, voice cracking.

Ginny nodded slowly, her smile widening. “Remember a few weeks ago when you mentioned you were feeling a little lonely?”

Hermione tensed. “Yes, but in my defense I was very drunk, _Ginerva_ ,” she sniffed.

“Yes, you were drunk, _Hermione._ You would've never have admitted it otherwise,” Ginny explained like she was speaking to one of her children.

“It was one time. I admitted it one time. And firewhiskey is the devil,” Hermione argued.

“It was more than one time.” Ginny nodded sagely, staring at Hermione with fondness and maybe a little bit of exasperation. “It actually was three times and, yes, firewhiskey was involved in all those times as well.”

Hermione slumped back and blew a curl out of her face. “You're not going to try and set me up again, are you? Because all those dates were absolute disasters.” She crossed her arms, leveling a look at her friend. “You set me up on a blind date with Terry Boot. _Terry. Boot._ How could you?”

“I'm so so sorry about that,” Ginny whined, looking guilty. “No, I'm never setting you up again. Harry made me promise...”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief then tensed again when she saw Ginny rifling through her bags. She beamed at Hermione as she gently set a bright pink gift bag on the table.

Hermione eyed it warily like a bomb. She wanted to poke at it with her wand but instead she tried to plaster a grateful smile on her face. “Thank you, Ginny, but you really shouldn't have...”

“I know! But I couldn't stop thinking about what you said—how much you miss being with someone and then _this_ —” she gestured excitedly at the bag, “—this just popped into my head!”

Oh no. _This_ wasn't good. History had proven that the more excited Ginny was over her gift, the worse it was.

Swallowing hard, Hermione gingerly plucked the bag from the table and set it on her lap. Carefully, she peeked inside. It was just a narrow sparkly box, smaller than a shoe box.

Nothing too horrible. So far...

Ginny was practically vibrating with excitement.

Hermione reached in, her hand shaking a little as she pulled it out slowly. She peered into the cellophane window. Confused, she pulled it out further and drew it closer to her face. It was a purple tube like thing, with delicate curvy lines carved into the sides that swirled and pulsated to a slow, silent rhythm. Hermione was just about to ask Ginny what it was when Hermione glanced at the tip—a tip that looked a lot like a—OH MY GOD!

She shoved the box back into the bag. “You got me a magical dildo???” she hissed. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, no one had...except a little, old lady who was looking extremely curious. _Of bloody course!_

Ginny nodded slowly, a wide grin practically splitting her face in half. “Am I a genius or what?”

Hermione's mouth fell open and, for the first time in a decade, no sound came out.

“It's not just a dildo,” Ginny whispered gleefully. “It also vibrates! _Caelesitia Sensatio_ —that's what it's called. It's the latest thing!”

Of course it has a latin based name—bloody pretentious wizarding world and their stupid, latin names.

Ginny mistook Hermione's silence as encouragement and plowed on. “It's great! It has all these features—hot, cold, or you can make it longer or wider and it has _loads_ of vibration settings.”

Hermione's brain—which had never been down for the count EVER—began to restart. “Well...it's certainly a surprise...”

Ginny was watching her closely, hands clasped under her chin, her eyes wide and pleading— _Oh Merlin_ , were those tears?

“Do you like it?” Ginny asked, her voice so hopeful it hurt.

Hermione hesitated, then smiled bright. “I love it,” she stated firmly. She reached over and squeezed Ginny's hand. “Thank you.”

Ginny all but squealed. “I knew you would! And when you meet that special someone...well, it doesn't mean you can't whip out that little _Sensatio_ for—”

Hermione held up her hand. “If you're going to tell me you and Harry have one of these, you can stop right there. I do _not_ want to know.”

Ginny's jaw clicked shut but she still looked extremely pleased with herself. “I'm just saying that I think you'll love it.” Then her eyes turned imploring. “But in the meantime, isn't there someone—I don't know—anyone, you may be interested in? There has to be at least one bloke at the ministry that's good enough for you.”

Instantly, a flash of white-blonde hair, a charming smile and a darkly tailored silhouette flared in Hermione's mind. She cleared her throat. “No. No, there isn't,” she lied. There was no way she going to admit her year-long crush to Ginny. She could barely admit it to herself.

Ginny pursed her lips in disappointment. “Well, there has to be someone,” she muttered, “maybe in Harry's department—”

“Well look at the time!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing Ginny's bags for her. “You better get going if you want to pick up those children on time.”

“Okay. Okay, I'll stop,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. She gathered her bags from Hermione's arms as they walked outside into the crisp, spring air. She stopped and looked up at Hermione, her expression serious. “I'm sorry I bring it up sometimes. I wouldn't have if the firewhiskey incidents didn't happen.” Ginny rubbed Hermione's arm soothingly. “It's just...any man would be lucky to have someone even half as wonderful as you.”

For a moment, Hermione's eyes stung. She hauled her friend into a quick hug and blinked hard. “Thanks, Ginny. You really are the best.” She pulled away and shook the bag. “And thank you for the gift. It was really very thoughtful,” she paused, smiling awkwardly. “I can't wait to...use it?”

Ginny grinned. “You're welcome.” She blinked, then snapped her fingers. “I know! Matthew Duncan! He's one of Ron's friends—”

“Must go!” Hermione yelled, whirling down the street. “Running late. Love you!”

“There's also some lube in there as well!” Ginny shouted after her.

“For Merlin's sake!” Hermione hissed, speed-walking like her life depended on it. She prayed Ginny wouldn't call after her again, or worse, follow her. She glanced furtively over her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief when she could no longer see her sweet, but exasperating friend. Then she rounded a corner and—

WHAM!

Hermione slammed into something tall, warm and immovable. There was a sharp curse in a man's voice, then she was falling. Strong hands grabbed her by the arms, steadying her. But the gift bag...the gift bag...

As if in slow motion, it tipped—the box (sparkling in the bright daylight) had spilled out—bouncing once, twice, before landing onto the cobbled stone ground. It looked crumpled but intact. Thankfully, the cellophane window was facing down. Hermione almost collapsed with relief.

“Granger?”

Her heart stopped. Her eyes snapped up to the man still holding her.

“M-Malfoy,” she managed, her voice sounding about twenty-three octaves too high.

He looked concerned, almost panicked, so unlike his usual smooth appearance. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” His eyes glanced over her. He let go of her arms and pulled out his wand. He peered behind her. “Is someone chasing you?”

“No, no. I'm fine. Really, I'm so sorry. Thank you.” Her face burned. “Just so excited to...get back to work is all! To finish those, em, reports.” She attempted cheerfulness but she knew she was leaning toward unhinged.

“Ah, yes. Those reports. Quite never ending, aren't they?” He smirked at her knowingly.

It took a moment for her to realize he mistook her ridiculousness as sarcasm—how they usually interacted at work. Not that she saw him as often as she liked, their only interactions coming from her turning in those never ending reports to his department.

She wanted to say something clever, something that widened that lovely smile of his but the combination of the dreaded sex toy just laying there and his warm grey eyes were really doing a number on her vocal cords.

Instead, she attempted a laugh—if one would call the shrill, hysterical sound that crawled out of her mouth. She cleared her throat and almost jumped from his soft touch on her shoulder.

“But really, are you alright?” he repeated gently.

She licked her lips nervously. Sweat prickled around her neck. “Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you,” she answered breathlessly. Her eyes darted nervously to the sparkly box—the horrid thing seemed to be glittering brighter than ever, as if saying, “LOOK! Look at me! Awesome dildo over here, yeah!”

Hermione inched closer to the box, trying for nonchalance but Malfoy—now ironically, the perfect gentleman—murmured, “Allow me.” He scooped it up. Hermione may have shrieked a little.

She watched in horror as Malfoy glanced down at the the box. How could he not? The box was specifically designed to draw the eye, not to mention the writhing, pulsating patterns on the sex toy itself.

He looked at it, a baffled expression on his face, then...

“Oh. OH!”

His grey eyes widened into perfect circles. He must have squeezed the box in his surprise because it sort of collapsed in his hand, the cardboard falling away and the cellophane dangling limply from his hand.

Hermione definitely shrieked then. Her face was so hot it felt like it might explode.

“That...I did not buy that,” she sputtered, pointing uselessly at the bloody thing. “It—it was a gift! A gift that was a joke. A joke gift!”

Malfoy's grip fumbled and he barely just caught the dildo itself, the tip jiggling like a spring. It looked happy.

“I—of course,” was all Malfoy could muster.

Hermione heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted to bury her face in her hands, maybe slink off into the ocean and live with the merpeople but she knew none of that would help her now. She took a deep breath.

“Well, thank you ever so much for assisting me, Malfoy, but those reports don't write themselves,” she said, snagging the gift bag from the ground.

“Which I will, by the way, have on your desk soon enough,” she added, extending her hand.

“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, as his hands gathered the toy and the mangled box. He moved closer to her, then jumped.

Hermione jumped too. “What! What is it?!”

Malfoy just gaped at her like an adorable fish. Then she heard it. The unmistakable hum of it buzzing.

“I—I'm so...sorry,” he stammered, his grip fumbling as it squirmed in his hand.

“Oh my God!” She rushed over to him. Her fingers tangled with his as she desperately pressed and prodded the dildo, trying in vain to turn it off. It only seemed to make it vibrate harder, gleefully altering it's cadence (it really did have a lot of variations).

Finally, Hermione just grabbed the bloody thing and stuffed it back in the gift bag.

Seconds ticked by painfully as she clutched the bag to her chest, the ridiculous sex toy buzzing between her boobs. This had to be the worst moment EVER, and she had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts! She really didn't want to meet his eyes but she could feel him _staring_ at her and if she didn't try now, she would never be able to look at him again.

With the steady, silent chant of GRYFFINDOR, GRYFFINDOR, echoing in her head, she took a deep breath and met his gaze.

If Hermione thought Draco Malfoy's usual suave demeanor was sexy before, nothing really compared her for when he was flustered. His eyes were wide and unguarded, a deep flush rising from his neck to his cheekbones. His hair was mussed, lips parted...

Hermione was on fire, from equal parts embarrassment and attraction.

She cleared her throat and attempted a smile. “Well, I'm so sorry, uh...Thank you for your help.” She hugged the vibrating bag tighter to her chest. “I'll see you around then and...” She took a shaky breath. “I'm going to go now...and maybe find a cave where I can crawl into and die. Goodbye, Malfoy.”

And before he could utter a sound, she whirled and ran.

 

* * *

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for any mistakes. I reread this over and over but I wouldn't be surprised if I missed some typos. I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

 

* * *

  

It was common knowledge in the Weasley clan that Ronald Weasley was an excellent gift giver.

Many, outside of his wife, family and friends, would never have thought of him to be so considerate, but he was. Hermione figured growing up in a large family with limited means, often out-shined by his siblings and always saddled with hand-me-downs had made Ron very creative when it came to gift giving.

And Hermione couldn't have appreciated it anymore than she did when Ron had burst into her office the next morning—the morning after to what Hermione now referred to as _The Incident._

After she had her unfortunate _The Incident_ with Malfoy, she went back to her office and worked with a frenzy of a person who wanted to forget that their year-long crush/obsession had caught them red-handed with a bright, purple dildo.

She stayed at work late, finishing up her mountain of paperwork. She took on more work from her coworkers and a few more projects from different departments as well. Hell, she would've taken on the Minister of Magic's job herself if only to distract from the memory of her and Malfoy clasping hands around a her new-fangled sex toy. _Argh!!!_

Yes, this was Hermione's life right now. Maybe moving to another country wasn't out of the question?

It was almost midnight and she finally threw in the towel and made her miserable way home. She barely got any sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see Malfoy, eyes wide, staring down at her in horrified embarrassment. Finally, she gave up and took a punishing, hot shower before heading back into the office.

And that's where she was before Ron barged in, stomping around like he owned the place. He held a small, brown box in one hand and was munching on a pastry with the other.

Hermione startled to her feet. “Ron!”

Ron flopped in the chair in front of her desk. “Hope I'm not bugging you.”

Hermione sat back down. “Of course not. What a lovely surprise.”

He brushed off the pastry crumbs from his jacket. “Heard about Ginny's gift.”

“Ugh!” She squeezed her eyes shut then opened one eye to look at him “Do you know what it was?”

He snorted. “Yes.”

Hermione buried her face with her hands and groaned. “I was a little...shocked,” she said, her words muffled behind her hands.

Ron gave her look. “Yeah, I should say so! Thought you might need a counter gift, if you will.” He set the brown box gently on her desk.

Hermione smiled. “You didn't have to.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, stuffing the rest of the pastry in his mouth. “I've been on the receiving end of a few of her gifts,” he added with his mouth full.

She opened the box and sitting there, neat as can be, was her favorite pastry in the world—pain au chocolat. Next to it was a beautifully wrapped sandwich. Hermione's heart melted.

Ron gestured at the box. “That's from that bakery you and your mum go to.”

“But...you've never been there...”

“Well, you talk about it often enough. I know it's your favorite place.” He made a face like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it wasn't—not for most people.

She smiled up at him. “It's not an easy place to find. Difficult to apparate to.”

Ron shrugged. “Not impossible though.”

“Thank you, Ron. This is...exactly what I needed.”

He nodded once, like he wasn't surprised though he did look pleased. “There's also something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay.”

“This Friday. Do you have plans?”

Hermione shook her head. “No.”

Ron clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “Good. Pansy and I are inviting you over for dinner. Six sound good?”

“I...yes, that sounds good,” she said. “Can I bring anything?”

“No, just yourself. It's kinda formal.” He rolled his eyes. “You know how Pansy gets.” He marched to the door. “See you in a couple days. Love you!” he yelled over his shoulder. Then, like a passing storm, he was gone.

Hermione stared at the open door feeling slightly disoriented. It wasn't often Ron visited her office and it wasn't often for him to invite her over dinner—mainly because they didn't have formal dinners at their house. Sure, she saw Ron and Pansy often enough—usually at the Burrow or out for a casual dinner. And she got along with Pansy just fine. In fact, Hermione suspected she was one of the few of Ron's friends and family that she liked, though Pansy was never careless enough to show it.

Hermione felt her mood perk up. She had Friday night plans which was much better than staying late at work again. She glanced at the box and slid it over. She picked up the pastry and lifted it to her nose. It smelled divine. She took an enormous bite and moaned.

 

* * *

 

She had been avoiding this.

On her desk, sat a beige folder holding a stack of parchment.

The _dreaded_ reports.

Usually, she wouldn't have delivered it today. Before _The Incident_ , she probably would've delivered them on Friday or, if she had to, Monday but she worked so late last night, that she finished them early and now? Now they stared at her _in judgement._

How much of a chicken was she? Well, she was finding out first hand.

Sneaking up to Hogwarts third-floor at the tender age of eleven to find the Sorcerer's Stone? Not a problem.

Storming the Ministry of Magic a few years laters? Not a problem.

Fighting in the Great Battle of Hogwarts? Not a problem.

Delivering reports directly to Draco Malfoy, Deputy Director to the Department of Magical Maleficence? Huge bloody problem.

UGH!

It wasn't always like this. She never had any contact with him before a year ago. He was in another department altogether for five years before he was promoted to his current position. Who knows why he even worked? Even after the Ministry seized half of the Malfoy assets, he was still as rich as Croesus.

The first time they interacted it was professional but chilly. Still, Hermione could recognize that Malfoy had matured into quite a handsome man. After a few weeks of dropping off her reports directly to him, they began to chat—usually about mundane things. He had lovely eyes.

A month later, she discovered he had an excellent sense of humor—biting but self-deprecating. His shoulders looked lean and strong underneath his tailored suits.

Shortly after, she had made him laugh—not just a chuckle, but a full belly laugh. He had a gorgeous smile. That's when Hermione realized she had fallen for him.

Any excuse to drop by his department was taken.

Except today.

She supposed she could deliver the reports by an intermediary but he would know she was a coward if she did that and she couldn't bear for him think of her that way. She knew, however slim, that he might feel the same way about her. She even calculated it—took out her old Arithmancy charts from school and everything! She sat down, cracked her knuckles and ran the numbers. There was 2.4% chance he felt the same way—not great but it was still a chance and if she chickened out now that tiny chance would plummet to zero real fast.

That won't do. She needed a plan. Yes, a strategy.

She would wait, give _The Incident_ breathing room. Monday—she would go down to his department and deliver her reports, pretend like nothing happened, have her usual jokes ready and if he brought _The Incident_ up, fake laugh her way through it. Yes: deny, distract and feign. A little low but what choice did she have???

She took a deep breath. Monday, she would have to pull her big-girl, Gryffindor pants up and get it over with.

 

* * *

 

The next couple of days went by quickly and soon it was Friday early evening.

Hermione glanced at herself in her mirror and smoothed down the full skirt of her dress. It was a simple, deep burgundy dress that went down to her knees, cinched at the waist and buttoned up to her collarbone—very prim and proper for a pureblood's dinner invite. Paired with minimal make-up and kitten heels, her mirror had declared (very loudly) that she looked lovely.

Pansy was very particular about appearances which was why it was always so surprising to Hermione that she chose Ron—Ron who was boisterous, funny and casual. Hermione supposed he was probably a much-needed breath of fresh air from all the upperclass fussiness Pansy grew up with. He was also doting and thoughtful and they both were disgustingly happy with each other. Maybe not so surprising then.

She tucked an errant curl back into her chignon, grabbed her purse and a bottle of wine and apparated to the posh, magical neighborhood Ron and Pansy lived in.

The air was crisp and dry. Rows of immaculate town homes lined a beautiful, circular promenade surrounded by lush, cherry trees. Soft pink blossoms burst from their branches, reminding Hermione of puffs of cotton candy.

She walked up the a short-flight of stone stairs to a cream-colored town home and knocked on the door. She was a little early but she knew Pansy appreciated promptness.

The door swung open and there was Ron, clean-shaven and dressed in a very nice fitting suit—a very rare sight.

He ushered her into his elegant foyer. His home was all tall ceilings, warm mahogany and bright, white walls. Fresh bunches of tulips sat in round crystal vases.

“Your house is so pretty,” Hermione said. Then she gave Ron a once over. “And so are you.”

He barked a laugh. “I seriously doubt that but I'll take the compliment.” He kissed her on the cheek. “You're the pretty one.” He took the bottle of wine from her hand. “Come on, Pansy will be excited to see you.”

Hermione could smell the kitchen before they entered it—wafting garlic and lemon filled her nose and her stomach did a little happy dance. The kitchen itself was a flurry of activity with magical spoons stirring pots and a lovely, little parade of herbs dancing overhead. At the stove, Pansy held a spoon to her mouth. She tasted it then complimented the house elf next to her, who beamed with pride then snapped out of existence.

She turned and saw her husband and Hermione and smiled brightly. She looked beautiful in her black, cocktail dress and matching heels. Simple pearl earrings glowed against her dark hair.

“Hermione!” She spread her arms and rushed over to hug Hermione. “I'm so happy to see you.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Hermione said. She glanced around the beautiful kitchen. “It smells wonderful.”

Ron gestured at the wine bottle he was holding. “Hermione brought this.”

“You shouldn't have,” Pansy tsked. She turned to her husband. “Ron, can you get Hermione a drink? I have that muggle wine she likes so much.”

After Hermione was settled with a glass of wine in one hand and an hors d'oeuvre in the other, Pansy and Ron led her to the dining room. The room was lovely—bright and elegant. The darkening sky looked violet through the large windows and dozens of candles flickered around the room.

Hermione popped the delicate hors d'ouevre in her mouth. It was delicious. She felt her body relax. Her embarrassing week floated away.

She glanced at the table, set so beautifully with embroidered napkins, glimmering silverware, sparkling glasses and four silver-dipped plates—

Wait a minute...

 _Four_ plates?

There was another person coming? Ron didn't mention anything—

There was a knock on the door.

“I'll get it.” Pansy said excitedly. “It's our other guest!” She disappeared down the hall.

Hermione turned to Ron. “Other guest?”

Ron shrugged. “It was a last minute addition.”

Then Hermione heard _the_ voice. Her hand tightened around her glass. She knew that voice anywhere. That relaxing feeling she had minutes ago? It was gone. Now, she felt the opposite— _times a thousand._ Her arms trembled with the sudden spike of adrenaline in her system. Her face felt hot and cold at the same time. She took a sip of her wine but her hand shook so hard it almost sloshed over the sides.

Merlin, she needed to get a hold of herself!

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. DEEP BREATHS!

Sharp footsteps. Voices. His voice.

Then he was there— _Draco Malfoy_ —framed by the entrance of the dining room. He was shaking Ron's hand, smiling, holding up a bottle of wine (probably much more expensive than the one Hermione brought). He looked poised, confident and _dead gorgeous_.

His eyes slid over to Hermione and his mouth dropped.

“I...Granger...I...” He cleared his throat. He smoothed down his tie. “I didn't know you'd be here.” He glanced at Pansy.

“Malfoy, so lovely to see you,” Hermione said, her voice only cracking once.

He smiled at her, a tremulous one. No doubt he was remembering the last time he saw her—remembering _The Incident._

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. “Can I get you drink, mate?”

Malfoy blinked and took a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah. A big one, please.”

“Great!” Ron said, leading Malfoy to the kitchen. “Also, I need to show you my new broom too!”

Pansy smiled, shaking her head. “It's still so strange to see how well they get along.”

Hermione could only nod and take a long sip of her drink.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all sitting down for the first course. It was a lovely lobster bisque, a dish Hermione would've enjoyed if it wasn't for the fact that she was sitting next to Malfoy while having erratic heart palpitations. Just to the left of her, she could see his hand resting on the table next to her wine glass. Like the rest of him, his hand was long, lean and elegant.

For a split second, she imagined what if would like if they were together. She would reach for his hand and give a little squeeze. She would smile up at him, maybe bump her foot against his.

Merlin, why was she doing this to herself??

She snatched her wine and downed it.

The conversation was light, drifting from Ministry politics to quidditch, with Ron and Pansy doing most of the heavy lifting.

When the second course arrived, a lovely little salad garnished with pansy flowers, the subject switched to Ron's family.

“You should've seen what my sister got my nephew,” Ron exclaimed. “Mind you, he's only two years old, okay.” He glanced around the table to make sure he had everyone's attention. “A top hat!”

The table erupted in disbelief.

“You're winding us up,” Malfoy laughed.

“No! No, I'm not. It was an honest-to-god top hat!”

“Oh, you should've seen what she got Ron for his birthday.” Pansy said, leaning forward. “Back hair removal potion!”

“I don't have back hair!” Ron cried. “I don't have back hair!”

“Yet.” Hermione said under her breath.

They all laughed with the exception of Ron, of course.

“Oh, Hermione has it worst of all,” Ron said, giving her a sympathetic look.

Hermione's breath stuttered.

“Just last week Ginny gave her a super inappropriate gift,” he continued, oblivious to the glare Hermione was shooting his way.

The table was silent. No doubt by the helpless look on Pansy's face, she _knew_ what it was. And Hermione was a thousand percent sure Malfoy put two and two together. Merlin, she would've kicked Ron if she could reach him.

“Well, it was—” Ron paused, his face flushing a bright shade of red. “Well, it's unimportant what it was,” he said, waving his fork in the air. “But she's always trying to set Hermione up with some git or another.”

Malfoy was perfectly still. “Really,” he said quietly.

“Oh, yeah,” Ron answered, stuffing his face with salad. “Real tossers too.”

Hermione slunk down into her chair.

“She set you up with Terry Boot, for Merlin's sake,” Ron said around his food.

Pansy gasped. “Sweet Salazar, that's right!”

“Terry Boot??” Malfoy said, looking outraged for her.

“Yes,” Hermione answered, resigned. “It was as awful as you could imagine.”

Pansy looked scandalized. “What happened?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Well, for one, he wouldn't shut up about the diameter of his biceps.” She paused. “Twenty-one inches.”

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Oh no."

“Oh, yes,” Hermione nodded. “I counted the seconds until the date was over.” She leaned back in her chair. “It was 3,782 if you were curious to know.”

Malfoy looked at her. “You actually counted?”

She bit back a smile. “Yes.”

“Wow,” is all he said.

Hermione's heart jumped. With the combination of the soft look in his grey eyes and his teasing smile, Hermione thought maybe Ginny's gift wasn't so bad after all.

“She has it almost as bad as you, Draco,” Pansy said, pointing to Malfoy with her fork.

“Pansy...” Malfoy muttered.

“It's true!” Pansy declared. “His mother is always setting him up with these... _women_ ,” she said scornfully. “A bunch of gold-digging hags, if you ask me.”

“It's really not—” he tried to cut in.

“Just two weeks ago he was out to dinner with his mother and she ambushed him with a date!” Pansy announced.

“Did she really?” Ron said, staring at Malfoy with pity.

“Oh, yes! She did!” Pansy said, clearly getting worked up. “He took his mother to some fancy dinner and there was some pureblooded vulture, waiting in the wings.”

“Your own mother, Malfoy?” Ron whispered, shaking his head.

Malfoy raised a hand. “We don't have to—”

“Yes! Ambushed her own son with that awful woman!” Pansy snarled.

Next to Hermione, Malfoy fidgeted in his seat. His eyes met hers nervously. A soft blush rose up to his cheeks. It was now Malfoy's time in the barrel and Hermione felt for him.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Well, you know, the weather—”

“Angelique Butterpatch,” Pansy spat, railroading whatever attempted lifeline Hermione tried to throw Malfoy's way. “More like Butter _snatch_!”

Hermione almost choked. Ron bit his lip, trying not to laugh. And Malfoy? He sat there, frozen like a statue.

“Did you know what this woman did, Hermione?” Pansy growled. She held her fork like she was going to stab someone.

Hermione jerked in response. She shook her head quickly.

“She sat there,” Pansy said, enunciating every word, “and asked how many galleons he had in his vaults.”

“Oh, no,” Hermione whispered.

“Oh, yes. And then she asked him how much all the Malfoy properties were worth,” Pansy continued.

Ron winced.

“And after all that, she asked him what was the average lifespan of his descendants so she could calculate how long his parents had left to live.”

Malfoy grimaced. “I left after that.”

“I'm so sorry, Malfoy,” Hermione said.

He tried for a smile. “I should've used your method and counted the seconds.”

“If I ever see her,” Pansy muttered, glaring into the distance. “I will...” She looked like she was running through all the hexes she knew in her mind. “You just know she had a gazillion glamour charms cast on her face—probably as dull as a 20 year old knut underneath it all!”

Ron placed a hand on his wife's arm—the one brandishing the fork as a weapon. “Now, love, remember what the healer said?”

Hermione's head jerked up. “Healer?”

Next to her, Malfoy straightened.

Both Pansy and Ron smiled at them. “Well,” Pansy said, looking more excited than Hermione could ever remember. “I'm pregnant!”

“She's pregnant!” Ron announced at the same time.

The dining room filled with congratulations. Hermione got up and hugged Pansy. Then she hugged Ron. Then Malfoy hugged Pansy. And with all the hugging going around, somehow Hermione had ended up hugging Malfoy as well.

She backed up, embarrassed, his arms still clinging to her waist. “Sorry,” she whispered. Good God, he smelled fantastic! She peered up at him and he seemed to realize just then that he was still holding her.

“Oh,” he murmured, taking a step back.

Hermione smoothed down her dress and looked everywhere but him.

At that moment, the third course was served and Hermione had never been more grateful to a plate of roasted salmon in her life.

“And that's why we invited you both here,” Pansy said, after everyone was settled back into their seats.

“We wanted to ask you,” Ron continued, grinning. “If you would be interested in being our child's godparents?”

“ _Us??_ ” Hermione blurted.

“Seriously?” Malfoy said.

“I mean, of course I'm honored!” Hermione said.

“As am I—” Malfoy added.

“I'm just...a little surprised.” She turned to Malfoy. “Aren't you?”

“Very surprised but yes, I would—”

“Of course, yes! I thought—”

“It's just a little—”

“Kind of a big—”

“Can I just say,” Malfoy rubbed at his forehead. “ _Why?_ ”

Pansy gave her friend a dead-eye glare. Ron smiled and shook his head.

“The answer is yes,” Hermione added quickly. “A thousand times yes, but I'm a little surprised you didn't ask Ginny and Harry, be that they're already parents.”

Ron snorted. “Well, that's why, innit.”

Hermione quirked her head. “I'm sorry.”

“Look, my sister and Harry are wonderful parents but they already have three!” Ron sounded exasperated. “Merlin knows if they'll have more. If anything happens to us, our child will be thrown into a pack of kids—lost in the shuffle! But you, Hermione...” he said, gesturing at her. “You'll read all the baby books and the parenting books and the nutritional books. That kid would have a bloody head start in life. Guaranteed success!”

Hermione's throat tightened. “Wow, Ron, thank you,” she whispered.

Pansy turned to Malfoy. “And you, Draco, you're rich!”

There was an awkward silence that followed.

Finally, Malfoy said in a dry tone, “Oh, I thought you were going to say more.”

Pansy shook her head, eyes wide. “Like what?”

“Draco, I know you would teach our child how to ride a broom right and proper,” Ron said, giving his wife a look she was completely oblivious to.

“Yes, and you'll teach their child the value of hard work and ingenuity,” Hermione added helpfully. “Look how you turned your department around. It was a disaster before and now it's one of the best run departments in the Ministry.”

Malfoy nodded slowly and gave Hermione a grateful look that had her heart racing. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, everyone with the exception of Pansy.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

Dinner passed with excited questions of all things baby related. Pansy had a detailed plan, she even brought out a chart which Hermione could appreciate. Dinner rolled into dessert (a pretty fruit tart so delicious, Hermione had barely stopped herself from licking the plate) and after a tour of the soon-to-be nursery it was time to go.

Hermione's mind was racing as the dinner party convened in the foyer. They both were obviously leaving at the same time. They would chat as they walked to the street to apparate home. Would she have enough nerve to mention a tea break at work sometime? Make it casual. If he rebuffed her, she would act like it wasn't a big deal and then go home and cry.

Or should she go big and suggest they find a bar for a round of drinks? It was still early for a Friday night and it was a lovely evening for a walk. She could try and frame it as a suggestion between friends and if he rebuffed her, she would act like it wasn't a big deal and then go home and cry.

Or should she go full-Gryffindor and declare her feelings—that she had an overwhelming crush on him for the last year and she thought he was beautiful and maybe he could kiss her sometime and maybe do a lot more? And if he rebuffed her, she would act like it wasn't a big deal and then go home and cry (the least likely choice but one she still toyed with).

Automatically, Hermione said her goodbyes, offering another round of congratulations as she fretted over what she was going to do. A few minutes later they were out in the cool, fresh air, walking together down the pathway to the street.

Tea or drink.

Tea or drink.

TEA OR _BLOODY_ DRINK!

Then Malfoy was talking to her. Bugger, she was too distracted to process words!

“I beg your pardon,” she said breathlessly.

“I said, thank you for saying what you said in there...about my department,” he said again.

They stopped at the sidewalk and Hermione risked a glance at him. She tried not to stare at his mouth.

“Well, it's true,” she said. “That department was run into the ground—a real bureaucratic nightmare. But you came in and reorganized it. I think more and more department heads are taking notice. Some are even implementing your policies. It's really quite brilliant.”

He looked down and nodded once. “That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

“Oh, I...” She fiddled with her purse. “I'm glad.”

There was a lull in the conversation. The seconds ticked by painfully. This was it. She needed to say something _now_.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “So, I was—”

“Do you think—” he said at the same time.

He huffed a laugh. “I'm sorry—”

“No, I didn't mean to...”

“Please,” he said softly. “Go ahead.”

Hermione swallowed hard. “Tea!” she blurted.

Malfoy's eyebrows jumped. “Tea...” he repeated.

“It...exists,” she managed to say through gritted teeth. Merlin, what the fuck was wrong with her?? This was not the time for her brain to fail her. “I...I mean, I like tea. Very much. English breakfast especially.” She cleared her throat, staring at the buttons of his shirt. “What I'm trying to say, in my convoluted way is—”

“Draco Malfoy?” A voice said behind them.

They both turned. Approaching them was a woman—statuesque and sleek and obviously pureblooded. Hermione's heart dropped.

“Imagine meeting you here,” the woman said, smiling widely. Her teeth glittered under the streetlamps.

“Beatrice, what a surprise,” Malfoy said politely.

She ignored Hermione altogether and held out the back of her hand to him.

Hermione's hand twitched toward her wand.

Malfoy took Beatrice's hand and kissed it quickly before dropping it.

“I've been looking forward to seeing you again,” Beatrice said with a knowing smirk. “We had _such_ a lovely time together.”

Hermione squeezed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to cry. Instead, she plastered a fake smile on her face. She was going to get through this with what little dignity she had left if it bloody well killed her!

She turned and faced him. “Well, Malfoy, I should be on my way.”

“Wait, Granger.” He took a step toward her. “You don't have to—”

“It was so wonderful to see you again,” she said. She was glad her voice sounded cheerful instead of miserable.

He was quiet for a long moment. “It was wonderful seeing you too.” His eyes locked onto hers. “I'll see you at work, yeah?”

She gave him a small smile. “Of course. I'll have a stack of reports waiting for you.”

“I...” he swallowed. “I look forward to it.”

She nodded and walked away. She wouldn't turn around. She wouldn't turn around and see him with that woman. She peered up at the cherry trees. The branches swayed in the breeze. Little pink petals fluttered down like snow. The cold air felt sharp on her skin. Her eyes stung. She took out her wand and apparated away to the safety of her home.

 

* * *

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter until the epilogue! YAY!!! The epilogue may take me longer to write since I'll be out of town for a few day. Also, many apologies for any mistakes. I literally reread this chapter 20 times and at this point I'll just miss any typos anyway. I REALLY hope you all like this chapter!

 

* * *

 

Harry had always been a consistent gift giver—predictable, sweet and sometimes boring.

He didn't think outside the box. He clung to safe decisions. And could anyone blame him? He had almost died multiple times as a child then he actually _did_ die, or at least he thought he did. Safe decisions felt... _safe_.

But one thing he was consistent with was he was generous.

That's why Hermione would've been pleased to see him in her office—if his timing hadn't been so atrocious.

After the Friday night dinner, Hermione had apparated home and poured herself a giant glass of wine. She was devastated when that woman, _Beatrice_ , interrupted her and Malfoy. Tears dripped down into her drink as she sat in her favorite chair and grieved over something she never had. Crookshanks, ancient and observant, rubbed up against her leg.

“You're right, Crooks,” she said, her voice sounding strange in the silence of her flat. “Time to pull myself together.”

Pulling herself together consisted of her downing her drink, staring at herself miserably as she took off her makeup and brushing her teeth (the muggle way, of course). She pulled on her pajamas, crawled into bed and curled up around Crookshanks, her tears soaking her pillow.

 

* * *

 

Sunshine filtered through the window the next morning, filling the bedroom with bright, happy light. Hermione woke up refreshed. Her emotions were always overwhelming when a problem seemed too big. But last night, as she slept, her brain had a chance to catch up with her feelings and process the evening.

She remembered when Pansy mentioned all of the dates Malfoy's mother had set him up with. There was good chance that woman was one of them. She remembered how attentive he was with her—the eye contact and the deference. Maybe he regarded her as a potential friend or maybe...he was interested in her too?

She brewed some tea then went to her closet to pull out her old Arithmancy charts. With a flourish of her wand, the charts, quills, books and all the little instruments she needed whipped through the air and landed perfectly organized onto her dining room table. She grabbed her tea and went to work.

A half hour later she was squinting down at the completed chart. There was a 9.2% chance he was interested in her. She sighed loudly. It was still a low number but it was a better result than the last time she calculated it.

She took a deep breath and glanced down at the number again, then she pulled out her wand and incinerated the chart.

She couldn't keep doing this—couldn't keep wanting him from afar. No, it was time to do something about it. On Monday, she would march into his office, deliver her reports and ask him if he wanted to have tea with her. No skirting around the issue anymore. If he said no, she would be disappointed but at least she would have her answer and she could move on.

After that decision she decided she would enjoy her weekend. She would visit her parents, see if they wanted to go a farmers market, maybe she'd stop by Harry and Ginny's as well.

She thought about Ginny's gift. The sex toy sat in the bottom of her drawer under a pile of t-shirts. _Bugger_ it. It was time to dust if off and break it in.

 

* * *

 

Monday morning arrived with little fanfare but Hermione's nerves were riotous. She had been splitting her attention between the clock on her wall and the open door of her office. It was close to ten o'clock—the allotted time she planned to head down to Malfoy's department. It would take approximately 6 minutes of walking and taking the lifts. Then she would arrive looking cool and collected (she hoped...probably not) and it would be the perfect time to suggest a tea break.

She took a deep breath and stared at the paperwork in front of her. Her hand shook around the quill she was holding. She was going to go through with it no matter what her panicked brain was screeching at her.

She glanced at the clock again. Five minutes to go. Her heart jumped. Good grief, she was a grown woman! Asking a bloke out for some hot flavored water shouldn't be this terrifying.

Five minutes. Deep breaths. Five minutes. Deep breaths. _Five bloody minutes!_

A soft knock on her door had her almost jumping a foot, startling her so badly she snapped her quill in half.

She glanced up and her brain went sideways—because standing there...standing there was...

 _Draco_ _Malfoy_.

It was like looking at a photograph, her eyes taking in the small details all at once: a shock of silvery-blonde hair, a soft smile on a stupidly handsome face, a sharp grey suit over nice, straight shoulders and then down to a pair of hands that were holding...

...two paper cups?

He held up one cup. “Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Hermione blinked twice then she mentally kicked her arse into gear. “Oh. Oh. I was just...that was...” she murmured, looking down at the broken quill in her hand. She threw it on her desk and stood up, smoothing down her skirt with shaky hands. “Please come in.” She waved at a chair in front of her desk and sat back down.

He stepped into her office and moved toward her desk, carefully placing one of the cups in front of her.

“I uh...remembered how enthusiastic you were about tea and...” He cleared his throat. “English breakfast, I believe?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, and I almost forgot...” he muttered, rifling through his jacket pocket. He pulled out a few packets of sugar, milk and a stirrer and placed them on her desk.

Then, he took a seat and crossed his legs, resting his own cup on top of his knee, looking like the very picture of the aristocrat he was.

They were having tea _together_. She didn't have to go through the excruciating journey to his department to ask him because he beat her to it! Bloody hell, his way was smarter, actually bring the tea with him. Maybe there was a chance that he felt the same way?

Hermione smiled at him. “Thank you, Malfoy. This is lovely,” she said.

A teasing smirk played against his features. “We're co-godparents to a future Weasley. I think it's okay if you call me Draco.”

She bit back a smile. “Alright. That goes for you too.”

He quirked his head. “I can call you Draco?”

Her smile widened. “Of course.”

He grinned at her and Hermione's heart fluttered like a snitch. She took a sip of her tea.

“How's your tea?” he said, still smiling at her.

“It's literally the best tea I've ever had.”

His eyebrows jumped. “Really? The best?” He looked down at his own cup doubtfully. “I didn't anticipate Ministry cafeteria tea to be so extravagant.”

She made a face. “Ministry cafeteria? This isn't some posh tea? I thought you were wealthy,” she scoffed.

He arched an eyebrow. “How do you think I stay that way,” he drawled with a smile.

“Point taken.” She pursed her lips and decided to risk a little flirting. “Draco.” she added. “I think I like saying your name.”

He was silent for a moment, his face unreadable. “I think I like hearing you say it, Hermione.”

Hermione's stomach felt like it would float up to her head. Was he... _flirting with her??_ Her breath quickened.

She needed to answer him with something witty, maybe slightly suggestive. Words swirled around her brain like a whirlwind. She stared into his grey eyes, willing herself to come up with _something_ to say. Good God, he was beautiful. She really wanted to see if he was as pretty underneath his fine, crisp clothes. Okay, she shouldn't say that.

“Who's Beatrice?” she said instead. _Oh my god,_ DID SHE REALLY JUST SAY THAT? It took all of her willpower not to groan and bang her head on her desk.

His eyes widened. “Beatrice...”

“I-I'm sorry. That's...I shouldn't have—” she stammered.

“No, it's...okay.” He straightened in his seat. “She's just another of one of my mother's...” He rolled his eyes.

“Dates?” she finished for him. “I thought that might be the case,” she said and she hoped she sounded convincing, not like the heartbroken girl who slunk away into the night when she saw them together.

“I...shouldn't have asked,” she said. “It's none of my business.”

“It's alright, Hermione.”

“Really, I'm usually not so nosey.”

“I think we have years of past Hogwarts behavior that suggests otherwise,” he teased.

Hermione bit back a smile. “Well, when you put it like that...”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I'm so used to dealing with Slytherins, I'm always a little surprised by the Gryffindor forthrightness.”

“Really? I would think spending time with Ron would make you used to it by now.”

He huffed a laugh. “I consider Ron to be in his own category altogether.”

“That's true,” she said grinning, though her face still felt warm from putting her foot in her mouth.

“But you know what it's like,” he said. “Being set up with someone.”

“Don't remind me.” She shook her head. “I don't know what Ginny was thinking. How could she think any of those blokes were good matches?”

He stared down at his cup, a thoughtful look on his face. “And what would you consider a good match?”

“Oh, uh,” She swallowed loudly. “You know, just the...” _You. You would be bloody perfect_. “I think it's very tricky to say...” _Your humor. Your intelligence._ “There are so many factors to, uh...” _And it's quite obvious you're visually a work of art._ “It's rather interesting...when you look at...”

She clasped onto her tea with both hands like it was a lifeline.

“Well, how about you?” she asked breathlessly. “What would you consider a good match?”

He stared at her fully now, his grey eyes piercing. “Are you asking who I think would be a good match for you or for me?”

“Uh...both, I guess?”

“Well, Beatrice certainly wasn't a good match for me. I find the social climbing mentality very tedious and we didn't have much to talk about. I think she was more interested in my vaults anyway.” He cleared his throat. “As for a good match for you...” He leaned forward, holding her gaze. “I think you deserve someone who realizes how impressive you are, for one thing.”

Hermione's breath hitched. “Oh.”

“And I think...” He took a deep breath. “Hermione, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.”

“Yes, Draco,” she whispered.

“I was wondering if you—”

_Knock knock knock._

Draco turned before Hermione could even register he stopped talking. She glanced up at her doorway, her brain sluggish. It took her a moment to recognize who was standing there.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, surprised.

Harry stood in the doorway, his green eyes darting between her and Draco. His mouth tightened into a firm line. Finally, his gaze rested on Draco.

“Malfoy,” he said curtly.

“Potter,” Draco answered with the same tone.

Harry stepped into the office. “Am I interrupting something?”

Before Hermione could answer that, yes, he was certainly was interrupting _something_ , Draco stood up.

“No, just picking up some reports” he said, peering down at Hermione.

“Oh, of course,” she said, grabbing the stack of reports with fumbling hands. “Here you go, Draco.”

He took them slowly and looked at her for a moment. Time seemed to slow down.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he said softly. Then, in a few steps, he was out of her office.

She stared at his retreating back until Harry's face moved into her line of sight. He gave her a pointed look.

“First Ron and now you,” he said, exasperated.

“What?”

He flopped into a chair. “Well, Ron and Malfoy are friends,” he said, blinking up at her with his huge eyes. “And now clearly you are too!”

She rolled her eyes. “Harry Potter, you hold a mean grudge.”

His mouth popped open. “A grudge?? What?”

“You would be friends with him too if your wife was his close friend,” she said. “We've grown up. People change.” _And get hotter_ , she added to herself. “And we let go of old feelings.”

He crossed his arms and pouted. Hermione stared at him fondly. Harry was loyal to a fault.

“Now, did you come in here to have a tantrum or is there some other reason for this visit?” she asked.

He uncrossed his arms. “I got tickets to the Wasps match this Saturday, got a great deal off Oliver. Ron and Ginny are going. Was hoping you might want to join us?”

“Of course,” she nodded. The quidditch match wasn't interesting in itself but the company made it worth it. “I would love to.”

 

* * *

 

The next day, Hermione had altered her plan. She would go to Draco's office and ask if he'd like to go to lunch with her. Simple as that.

After he left yesterday, she wondered what he was about to say to her before Harry had interrupted them. She was 56% sure he was going to ask her on a date. There was something there—there had to be with the way he acted—the tea, the calling each other by their first names, the _almost_ flirting. He was showing her he felt something, she was sure of it.

It was close to lunchtime and she marched herself down to his department. Rows of department head portraits watched her as she passed. Ahead of her were the large doors to his department—old and worn but still pretty with it's hand-carved inlay. She took a deep breath and pushed them open.

There sat his assistant—one of the sweetest ladies Hermione had ever met...and the most ancient.

Hermione stopped in front of her desk. “Good morning, Meredith,” she said brightly.

Meredith peered up through her thick glasses. “Oh, who is it, dear?” she said in her shaky voice.

“Um, it's me,” she said waving slightly. “Hermione. Hermione Granger?”

Meredith's face lit up, her face crinkling charmingly. “Oh, Hermione. What a pleasure! Are you here to drop off your reports?”

“Uh, no. I was...I wanted to see Draco,” she said, her voice trembling. She cleared her throat. “If he's around?”

“Oh, dear,” Meredith said mournfully. “I'm afraid he's not in, my dear. He's out in the field.” She leaned in and whispered. “There was an accident at a Muggle museum. An old artifact. Nasty business.”

“Oh, no. I hope no one was hurt.”

“No one was hurt, thank goodness.” Meredith smiled sweetly at her. “Though it was very sweet of you to ask.” She gave Hermione a look. “I always thought you would make a wonderful Hufflepuff.”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Meredith.”

“However, I don't think Draco will be in all week. He's dealing with the clean up and also the diplomatic mess as well.”

“Oh, okay,” Hermione said, trying to stifle the disappointment from her voice. “I'll stop by next week.”

“He'll be so sorry he missed you, dear,” Meredith said.

“Thank you. I'll see you later, Meredith.” Hermione turned and left, still resolute in her plan—she would just have to be patient.

 

* * *

 

Saturday morning was cool and cloudy—good weather for quidditch if it didn't rain. The coliseum was packed, music filtered through the stands along with the rich smells of fried food. Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Ron climbed up the second floor platform, squeezing past the crowds to get to their seats.

Hermione sat down, rearranging her Gryffindor scarf around her neck. She peered up at the massive quidditch rings above them. The teams were already on the pitch, flying around, warming up.

“These are nice seats, Harry,” she said as he sat down next to her.

“Yeah, love,” Ginny said with a teasing look. “Did you threaten to hex Oliver for these seats?”

“Haha. Of course not,” Harry answered dryly.

Ginny kissed him on the cheek then waved her own Gryffindor scarf in his face.

“Oy, look who's here!” Ron exclaimed.

Hermione followed his line of sight to several rows in front of them...and her mouth fell open. A shock of blond hair and a sharp jawline had her heart racing.

Sweet Merlin, why was he always surprising her with his presence?

Ron stood and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Draco! Draco over here, yeah!”

Draco turned and smiled when he saw Ron. Standing next to him was his friend, Blaise, who leaned in and whispered to him. Draco's eyes slid over to Hermione and his eyes lit up. She gave him a shaky smile. He nodded once, eyes lingering before he turned to sit down.

“Well, he seems awfully friendly now,” Ginny said, gazing thoughtfully at Draco. “I bumped into him at the Ministry recently and he asked how my family was doing. Very civil, I thought.”

Harry groaned. “You _too_?”

Ginny looked puzzled. “What?”

“He spends more time with Ron than I do and now he's friends with Hermione,” Harry exclaimed. “It's like he's stealing my life!”

“Are you serious right now? Stealing your life?” Hermione said, laughing much harder than she should, seeing the disgruntled look on Harry's face. “I'm sure that's what he's thinking as he navigates through life trying to be a decent person, Harry.”

“He's a great friend to Pansy and me,” Ron piped in. “He's grown up. Learned a lot. We all have. A real good bloke.”

“Merlin, what is happening right now?” Harry moaned.

“Oh, look everyone, Harry is jealous!” Ginny cried.

Harry crossed his arms. “Whatever!”

Ginny nuzzled his cheek. “You're so adorable when you're jealous.”

Harry glared at his wife.

“You have nothing to be jealous about, Harry,” Hermione said, bumping her arm with his. “I love you.”

He gave her grateful look.

“Exactly,” Ron proclaimed. “You're one of kind, Harry. Irreplaceable!” Ron leaned back in his seat, watching the teams practice throwing quaffles to each other. “Also, I asked Draco to be my child's godfather.”

Harry's head snapped to Ron. “ _WHAT?_ ”

Ron shrugged. “He'd be a great.” He pointed a thumb at Hermione. “Asked Hermione to be the godmother as well.”

“B-But we're already—already _parents_!!” Harry sputtered. He glanced at Hermione nervously. “No offense, Hermione, you're wonderful and all.”

Hermione just stared at him.

Ginny looked unruffled. “Yeah, but we already have three children already,” she reasoned. “Wouldn't want the little bugger to get lost in the shuffle.”

“Exactly!” Ron cried. “Thank you!”

Harry shot out of his seat. “I need a drink,” he muttered before storming off through the crowded aisle.

“Harry come back!” Hermione yelled after him.

“Come on, don't be like that, Harry!” Ron whined. He gave Hermione a look before getting up and following Harry.

“He'll be fine,” Ginny said, unconcerned. “He just hangs onto things a little longer.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. Her gaze drifted to Draco, his hair bright against the crowds. Then, as if on cue, he turned and caught her watching him. She waved at him feeling foolish but the smile he sent her way had her heart soaring.

 

* * *

 

Harry did indeed let his anger go. After several ales, he was bellowing the Wasps victory song with Ron, their arms slung around each other as they waited for the for the crowds to thin.

Hermione, who was the only stone-cold sober person in their group, tried not to glance at Draco every few seconds. He and Blaise looked like they were waiting for the crowds to clear up too. Should she try and time her exit with his? Of course she should. The real trick was to make sure Ginny didn't catch a whiff of her interest, otherwise her friend, in her exuberance to find Hermione a boyfriend, would make the situation about 5000 times more difficult than it already was.

Ron, her oblivious savior, took care of that. He stood up from his seat, waving his arms. “Oy, Draco! Dracoooooo!”

Draco turned and Ron shouted, “We're going to the pub and you're coming with!”

Draco grinned and nodded, then his eyes flickered to Hermione before glancing away. Harry grumbled under his breath.

They were going to a pub.

Together.

With lots of alcohol.

And with alcohol present, her uttering something ridiculous increased exponentially. Okay, she needed to not get drunk because—Merlin, help her—she wasn't going to cock this up!

Finally, Ron deemed the crowds manageable enough and gestured everyone to follow him. Outside of the coliseum, Harry and Ron flung their arms around Hermione's shoulders and vacillated between giggling uncontrollably and announcing to the world how much they loved _The Great Hermione_ _Granger!_

She was all too aware of Draco following them. What must they look like? Ridiculous was her only guess.

“For Godric's sake,” she hissed. “Can you two keep it down??”

No, they couldn't apparently because they only grew louder in their declarations. She glared at Ginny who was too busy laughing her arse off to be of any use.

Draco sidled up next Ron, smirking at Hermione. “Need any help, Granger?”

She glanced up at him right as Ron leaned on her especially hard. She almost stumbled. “What gives you that idea?” she grunted. “Also, I thought we were on a first name basis”

His smirk turned into a grin. “Old habits...Hermione.”

Her heart jumped.

“Come on, Weasley,” Draco said, grasping Ron's arm and gently prying him off her. “It wouldn't do if you and Hermione fell arse over kettle, now would it?”

Ron stared at him. “Merlin, Draco, you are incredibly handsome from this angle.”

Draco only snorted and shook his head.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the pub. It was bustling inside but, miraculously, Ron found a table open in the back. It was a small booth, big enough to fit six people if no one cared about personal space. As luck would have it, Draco ended up sliding in next to her. There was a few inches of space between them while Ron and Blaise went to the bar to order their drinks.

Hermione turned to Draco. “I hear you had quite a mess to deal with at a museum. Did everything turn out okay?”

Draco shook his head. “It was a right disaster. The muggle government got involved. They were all up in arms about how a magical artifact slipped past our regulatory system.”

“I could imagine,” Hermione said. “I know the Minister had to step in as well.”

“Yes, it made for a very long and stressful week.”

“That's too bad about your week, Malfoy,” Harry said, staring pointedly at Draco across the table. “But not everything was terrible. I hear congratulations are in order.”

Draco stared back at Harry, his head quirked to the side—reminiscent of his school days swagger. “What about, Potter?”

Harry crossed his arms. Next to him, Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Well, you'll soon be a godfather to my best friend's child,” Harry said, looking on the verge of pouting.

“Oh, yes that,” Draco said, smiling. “Thank you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I'm curious, what is your philosophy when it comes to child rearing?”

“Harry...” Hermione muttered.

“I'd rather not dwell on the demise of my closest friends, Potter.”

Harry's jaw clenched. “Well, _I_ would,” Harry said stubbornly. “It's a serious responsibility.”

“Fine,” Draco said. He held up his hand as if counting down. “Number one, I believe in quidditch. Two, Hogwarts. Three, hope the child gets sorted into Slytherin.” He flicked a fourth finger. “And if in doubt, ask Hermione what she thinks is best.” He gave Harry a look. “Is that good enough for you?”

Harry glared at him mulishly. “As a matter of fact, it isn't—”

“Here we are!” Ron announced cheerfully, setting down three pints gently which was amazing considering how tipsy he was.

Blaise followed suit with the other three drinks then slid next to Draco, shoving him over to make room for himself...which meant pushing Draco into Hermione, who was now wedged between a wall and the wizard who ruined her to all other wizards. The shock of his warm body pressed into the side of hers had her heart beating so hard it was a wonder no one else could hear it.

“Blaise, scoot over,” Draco said, trying to shove his friend back. “I'm crushing Hermione here.”

“Mate, I'm going to fall on my arse. You're just going to have to snuggle in.”

Draco glanced down at her. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Hermione could only stare at him mouth. “Uh huh.” She snapped her head forward, hoping her face wasn't as red as it felt.

His arm felt hot against hers. She swallowed hard and glanced down at their thighs, now pressed tight against each other. Surprisingly, his thigh looked big against hers. She always imagined him lean, wiry but not too muscular. Instead, he felt solid and strong.

Sweet Merlin, don't think of how powerful his thighs might be, Hermione!

Sweat prickled on her forehead. She snatched her pint and drank half of it in one go.

“Slow down, Hermione,” Ron admonished. “You're in charge of getting us home tonight.”

“I'm not apparating after a few drinks, Ronald.”

“Okay, floo then.” He took a sip of his ale. “It's your turn, you know.”

She gave him a dead-eyed stare. “You have foam on your upper lip.”

Ron licked his upper lip and grinned.

The conversation moved onto the quidditch game—a play-by-play recap that would've bored Hermione to tears if not for the fact that every time Draco laughed his leg jiggled against hers which sent her nerve endings in a tizzy. He seemed unaffected by their proximity which only made her feel bloody pathetic.

Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe he only saw her as a work colleague, after all.

Maybe she should've paid better to attention to the conversation at hand so she would see the approaching train wreck that was headed her way.

“Right, Hermione?” Ginny said.

Hermione blinked. “What?”

“I said Blaise and Malfoy must know loads of people in the wizarding community.”

It was an innocent statement, nothing to be concerned about, but there was a glint in Ginny's eye Hermione recognized. Her hands began to sweat.

“Well, so do you. You've all grown up in this world,” Hermione said carefully. “But the quidditch game was quite something, wasn't it?” She gave a pointed look to her friends—Harry who was drunk and Ron who was oblivious.

“That it was. McGovern was brilliant!” Ginny said, and for a moment, it seemed Hermione had successfully changed the subject.

However, Ginny was a Weasley and Weasleys didn't give up so easy.

“But what I saying was, Malfoy and Blaise seem to be halfway decent blokes,” Ginny continued.

“Wow, thanks for the glowing accolades,” Draco said dryly.

“Yeah, what the hell?” Blaise laughed.

Ginny rolled her eyes then she took a breath. Time slowed down. Alarm bells went off in Hermione's head. She knew what was going to happen and now she was suspended in the moment where Ginny was going to say the _thing_ that would embarrass the fuck out of her.

“I mean, you must know _someone_ ,” Ginny said, pointing at Hermione, “who would be good enough for our girl, here.”

Hermione covered her face with a hand. “Ginny, please...”

Harry seemed to shake off his stupor. “Ginny, you promised,” he whined.

“What?? I'm not asking them to set up a date or anything!”

Ron snorted. “You're about 30 seconds from that though. Lay off, for once.”

“I'm sorry if I want to see our friend happy!” Ginny snapped.

“I _am_ happy, Ginny, please,” Hermione pleaded.

Ginny gave her look that clearly said, _are you though??_

“You don't have to answer any of her questions,” Hermione said, glancing quickly at Malfoy then back to her drink. “It's really not...”

“I know someone,” Blaise said slowly. “Yeah, he's pretty decent wizard. Can be a bit of shite sometimes but who isn't.” He shrugged. “But he's great where it counts—faithful, funny. Smart too but only sometimes.” He grinned. “Sometimes he can be _really_ stupid.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “What kind of stupid are we talking about? Is he stupid academically? Or common sense wise?”

Hermione groaned and downed the rest of her ale.

“Oh, he's quite brilliant academically, I'd say.” Blaise said, now grinning fully.

Ginny's eyes lit up. “Really? Is he good looking?”

“A lot of people thinks so.” Blaise made a show of thinking really hard. “He has a specific...look about him. Some may not care for it.” He shrugged. “And some may like it a lot.”

“Okay, I'm really not into this conversation right now,” Harry slurred.

“Here, here,” Ron agreed, raising his glass.

“I'm not either,” Draco said, his voice like ice.

Hermione's gaze flickered up to Draco but he was looking at Blaise.

“Okay, but is he tall?” Ginny asked, now focused on Blaise like a laser. “Because Hermione likes tall and lean, you know.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione muttered.

“Yeah, yeah.” Blaise nodded. “Definitely tall and lean.”

Hermione's heart jumped. Could he be talking about Draco? She didn't dare look at him.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Harry begged.

“No, we will not talk about something else!” Ginny snapped. Great, now she was fired up. “I would just like to know, in what universe, does an incredible, brilliant, kind, funny woman not meet someone worthy?” she argued, pointing at Hermione. “ _Who's_ also bloody stunning as well!”

Hermione sat there and closed her eyes. Maybe she could apparate from this table. Would it be rude? Ginny was an incredible friend but her timing...

“Maybe wizards are...intimidated,” Draco said softly.

“You mean _scared_ ,” Ginny scoffed. “Then they're simply not worth her time.”

Ron sighed. “Well, maybe they're building up the courage to approach her. I mean, she's Hermione _bloody_ Granger,” he said. “Most blokes _should_ be intimidated if they had any brains.”

“Or maybe,” Harry said, now swaying from alcohol and annoyance. “We can talk about something else since this conversation is bloody painful and it's making Hermione uncomfortable! Yes?”

Ginny crossed her arms with a huff.

“I say a round of firewhiskey for the entire table,” Draco announced. “What say you?”

The entire table cheered loudly, except for Hermione who could only manage feeble _yay._

 

* * *

 

After a round of shots and ales, Hermione was comfortably buzzed and feeling a little brave, she began leaning into Draco whenever he talked to her.

He must've been buzzed too. His smile grew wider, his eyes softer. He stretched his arm along the back of the booth, right above her head, and soon she was tucked into his side. He smelled _yummy_. Something warm spread through Hermione's belly.

Harry, Ron and Ginny, however, were completely pissed.

And again, for the second time tonight, Hermione was too distracted to see danger ahead.

Ginny's eyes were half-lidded as she leaned precariously against Harry. Then, apropos of nothing, she mumbled, “I think I'm going to get mum a Caelesitia Sensatio for her birthday.”

Harry didn't even register her statement but Ron peered around Harry.

“What the fuck is that?” Ron asked, taking a long sip of his ale.

“It's a magical dildo.”

Ron sprayed his mouthful all over the table.

Hermione choked. Sweet Merlin, Ginny was going to bring up _The Incident_!

“The hell, Weasley, you spit all over the table!” Blaise cried.

Ginny pushed her hair out of her face. “It's the exact same one I got Herm—”

Immediately, Ron pushed past Harry, trying to cover his sister's mouth with his hand. “Shut it, woman! Shut it!”

Ginny slapped Ron's hand away. “Get your grubby hands off me, you git!”

Harry blinked slowly, completely unaware of the his wife and friend jostling him about.

“As I was saying,” Ginny said, exasperated. “It's the exact same model—”

Hermione looked around frantically for anything to shut Ginny up completely forgetting she was a witch with a wand.

“—I got Hermio—” Ginny continued.

Desperate, she knocked over her drink. There wasn't very much ale left but it was enough to spill over the table and...

...onto Harry's lap.

Harry jumped. He blinked down at the crotch of his jeans. “Did I _piss_ myself?”

“No, Harry, I spilled my drink,” Hermione said, feeling guilty (but, honestly, not _that_ guilty). “I'm so sorry.”

“My dick is cold,” he announced. “And I'm drunk. Ginny, we're leaving.”

Ron slid out of the booth to make way for Harry and his sister while he groped for his jacket. “I'm leaving too. I miss my wife,” he slurred.

Hermione glanced up at Draco, disappointed. “I should get them home.”

“Stay where you are, Granger.” Blaise got to his feet. “I'll get them home safely.”

“Blaise, you don't have to...” Hermione said.

Blaise shook his head. “I'm the most sober one here and it's really no problem.” He grinned at her and winked. “Just...enjoy yourselves. Okay?”

After a series of unintelligible goodbyes, Blaise ushered her drunk friends though the pub and out of sight.

Draco scooted away, giving Hermione more room. She tried to ignore her sinking disappointment and the chill from his missing body heat.

He pulled out his wand and cleaned up the ale on the table. Then he looked at her, a smirk playing against his stupidly, gorgeous mouth.

“Was that an accident, Hermione?”

“What do you think?”

He leaned back. “I think no, it wasn't.”

She smiled softly. “I know you know what Ginny was going to say, what she got me...”

He smiled too. “How could I forget?”

Hermione's cheeks felt hot. “I knew once she said it, she'd launch into why she got it,” she admitted. “And then it would've been another discussion of why she needs to find me a boyfriend.”

“Trust me, Hermione,” Draco said quietly. “I understand.”

He traced a finger against the grain of the table. “But...if I were being honest...” He lifted a shoulder. “I did agree with her on one issue...”

“Really?”

He watched her carefully. “It _is_ a wonder some wizard hasn't snatched you up yet. You are...” He swallowed. “An incredible woman.”

Hermione's heart jumped so hard, it felt like it was trying to break out of her ribs. “Well...a few wizards have asked me out from time to time but...”

This was _it_. This was the moment to confess her feelings. Her lungs forgot how to breathe.

He was watching her expectantly.

She took a shaky breath. “...but I always said no because...there was already someone I had feelings for. Deep feelings. And it felt unfair to those asking me out if I said yes.”

“Oh.” Draco's face was expressionless.

She gathered up all her courage. “It's you, Draco. You're the one I have feelings for.”

He blew out a long breath then broke out into a relieved smile. “Merlin, I was hoping you would say that. I...I wasn't sure.”

She smiled in return. “You feel the same way too, I hope?”

“Oh, fuck yes, Hermione,” he said, gazing into her eyes. He scooped up her hand in his. “When...when did you feel this way about me?”

She glanced down at their joined hands, threading her fingers through his. “Last year. When you changed departments and we started talking and I got to know you. I just...I was lost.”

He stared at her in amazement.

“How about you?” she asked. “When was it for you?

He opened then closed his mouth. After a long moment, he said, “In our Hogwarts days.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

He nodded slowly. “At the Yule Ball,” he huffed a laugh. “You so looked beautiful, I didn't know what to do with myself.”

Hermione's mouth went dry. That _long_?

“It was just a schoolboy's crush but once I got to know you at the Ministry, it just...grew. I hope that doesn't...” He struggled for a moment. “Scare you.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, suddenly. “My flat is a few blocks away.”

“W-What?” he stammered, cheeks flushed.

 _Oh. OH!_ That sounded very forward.

“I-I mean, for drinks, of course,” she amended. “I didn't mean to—”

In a flash, Draco was already out of his seat, hastily throwing on his jacket and grabbing hers. She slid out of the booth and he grasped her hand, pulling her to her feet.

His movements were rushed and clumsy as he helped her with her coat. Hermione blinked in surprise. She guessed he _really_ wanted to go back to her place. He grabbed her hand and practically dragged her through the pub and out into the cold, misty night air.

Her breath came out in steamy, little puffs. “It's this way.”

He squeezed her hand as they speed-walked down the sidewalk. He glanced down at her and even in the darkness she could see the his smile.

“I can't believe this is happening,” he mumbled.

“Me too,” she whispered.

He stopped and pulled her into a kiss. His lips were hot and soft and Hermione moaned so loudly, she would've been embarrassed if she hadn't been so caught up in the moment.

He tore his mouth away from hers, breathing hard. “How close are we to your place?”

“ _What?”_ Her entire body tingled. “Oh, very close.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his side and they began to walk again, a little more leisurely.

They finally reached the building to her flat. With a trembling hand, she pulled out her wand. Behind her, Draco grasped her waist and she almost dropped her wand. Hastily, she unlocked entrance door and they lurched up the stairs with Draco's hands still clinging to her.

They stopped at her front door and Draco pressed his chest against her back, his arms encircling her belly. Her body heat jumped several degrees. He brushed her hair away and nibbled the soft skin of her neck. She gasped loudly, her fingers shaking so badly she could barely hold onto her wand.

He nipped her again. She felt the light scrape of teeth.

Her legs turned to jelly.

“Steady there, Granger,” he murmured.

Gently, he grasped her hand, steadying her. She flicked her wand, lowering the wards and unlocking the door. They both stumbled through her front door.

He spun her around and kicked the door shut. She tossed her wand onto her entrance table and wound her arms around him, burying her nose into his neck.

“You smell so good,” she whispered.

“Merlin, you do too,” he groaned, his hands now peeling off her coat.

She raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly. She angled her head, parting her mouth and tasted him. _Oh, she wasn't going to survive this night._

He deepened the kiss and pulled her flush against his body. He was hard all over—all muscles and strong angles and where their hips met...yes, he wanted her.

She shoved his jacket off his shoulders, her hands lingering on the planes of his shoulder blades.

“Tell me, “ he said, between kisses. “Tell me if you're uncomfortable at any moment.”

“Uh huh,” she breathed. She grabbed his shirt with two hands and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere. “You too.”

She kicked off her shoes and pulled him down to the floor on top of her.

He laughed breathlessly. “Here?”

She arched underneath him, rubbing against him. “I've waited too bloody long.”

“Me too,” he said, kissing her eagerly.

It was a blur after that—hands groping, mouths tasting. Draco was shirtless, his trousers and boxers shoved past his hips, his hand sliding underneath Hermione's shirt while she pulled off her jeans and knickers off of one leg.

Soon, he was cradled between her thighs, working himself deep into her body. They both gasped, moving desperately against each other. She wasn't going to last long. She felt exposed, stretched thin but renewed somehow. Her hands clung to his shoulders, her hips bearing down with every thrust.

He kissed her fiercely, uttering sounds that had her body tensing.

“Hermione,” he breathed, gazing into her eyes. “You don't know how much I've wanted this.”

At that, she shattered around him, crying breathlessly as her body peaked, clenching. He followed her moments later, her name on his lips.

Draco collapsed on top of her, nestled into her body. Hermione stared up at the ceiling, panting.

“Well, now,” she sighed, hugging him close. “That happened.”

He laughed, his breath hot against her neck.

“Not my longest performance, I'm afraid,” he said, voice muffled.

Hermione smiled. “Still a very impressive one though.”

He lifted his head to look at her, a smirk on his lips. “I may have to keep you around, Granger. You do wonders for the ego.”

“Well, if that's the case,” she reasoned, her gaze roaming. “That might be a good idea.” She gripped his bare hips. “For your ego's sake, of course.”

He glanced down her body. “You still have your jeans on one leg.”

“In fairness, I was in a bit of a rush.”

His hand brushed against the soft skin of her leg. He was still inside her. Her body tensed, warming back up from his attention.

“I was too,” he whispered. “I was desperate for you.” He brushed his nose along hers. “Still am.”

He trailed his fingertips up and down her thigh. He kissed her slowly—soft and sweet. She shivered, wrapping her arms and legs around him, as she felt him move inside her again.

“I'm a little surprised you're ready to go again,” she gasped, returning his kisses.

“It's been awhile since I...” He glanced down, a momentary lapse in shyness. “And I've waited so long for a chance to be with you.” His body moved more forcefully.

“God, me too,” she moaned. “I like you, Draco.”

He kissed her again then grinned against her mouth. “I should hope so, considering our current situation.”

She ran her hand over his firm stomach. “Are you always this sarcastic when having sex?”

“I can be many things when having sex,” he sighed happily. “Whatever you need me to be, Hermione.”

Her heart soared.

He began unbuttoning her shirt, while he thrust, slow but deliberate. Merlin, he really did have strong thighs. He peeled back her shirt and traced the lace of her bra with his fingertips. She whimpered his name.

He shushed her soothingly. “I'll take care of you, Hermione,” he said, gripping her hips, guiding her body's movements. “I'll take of you all night.”

“I will too,” she whispered against his mouth.

_I will too, for as long as you'll let me._

 

* * *

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this last chapter was supposed to be more of an epilogue but it kind of became more of a chapter in length. I wrestled with the ending (which I always do) but I decided to just post it anyway otherwise it would just sit on my computer indefinitely. It turned out more fluffy and less cracky than I anticipated but I've realized I'm leaning more toward fluff these days anyway. Who knew! I really hope you enjoyed this and my apologies for any typos :)

 

* * *

 

It was no surprise to Hermione that Draco was a wonderful gift giver. He was thoughtful, sweet and generous.

They were celebrating their first Christmas together. Hermione had spent Christmas Eve at the Manor with his mother. His ancestral home was resplendent. A mixture of antique, holiday heirlooms and modern-day Christmas decorations graced the elegant, foreboding architecture.

He surprised her with an ancient potions book that night. She traced the faded, gold-inlay cover with trembling fingers. The book creaked when she opened it and she took a nice, long sniff. He smiled as he watched her.

Christmas morning was spent at her flat where they lazed around half naked listening to holiday music. Hermione had prepared a full English breakfast later that morning after they took a nice, long shower together and sipped spiked hot chocolate by the fire afterward.

Then they opened gifts. She had made Draco promise he wouldn't go overboard with presents which he reluctantly agreed. However, there was still a pile of presents crammed underneath her tiny tree. Inside beautifully wrapped boxes were a pair of luxurious leather boots with matching gloves, an outrageously expensive work satchel (with an undetectable extension charm, of course) and a slinky, silk nightgown that was as soft as air. Then he handed her a card that had an obscene amount of credit to Flourish & Blotts.

She had plopped herself on the arm of the chair he sat in and kissed him breathless. Then, nervously, she placed a small box in his hand.

She knew, even with his assurances of restraint, he would go big on Christmas and she knew she wouldn't be able to match his generosity. Instead, she drew from her strength. She researched. And after a entire month of covert reading and two months of painstakingly building up layers of complex charms, she had finally finished with his present.

He opened the box and stared down at a pair of simple, elegant silver cufflinks. He picked them up carefully, tilting his head, as if he sensed the magic inside them.

“They're charmed,” Hermione said, excitement in her voice. “It's based off the potion, Felix Felicis.”

Draco's eyes widened as he stared up at her in amazement. “Liquid luck?”

“Not as potent or strong,” Hermione said quickly. “Not even close but, unlike liquid luck, it won't fade. It doesn't make things happen or give you a result you want exactly, but it will give a tiny bit of luck if or when you need it.”

He stared down at the cufflinks in his hand. “Hermione,” he murmured. “I don't know what to say. It's...” His throat bobbed. “The effort it took to make these...”

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “You're worth it, Draco.”

“I love you,” he said, his eyes bright with emotion.

She nodded. “I love you too.”

He grasped her hand, running his thumb along the inside of her palm. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something, then his expression shifted and he grinned at her.

“What do you say...” he said, gripping the cufflinks lightly. “We go to your bedroom...”

Hermione snorted a laugh. “Let me guess, you're going to say you're feeling lucky, aren't you?”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Because I'm feeling _very_ lucky.”

“You're such a gorgeous prat.” She kissed him on the tip of his nose. “We can't. We have to stop my parent's place then to Harry's.”

“To Harry's?” he groaned. “Why? He still despises me.”

“What? He's perfectly civil to you.”

“It's fake civility and he's terrible at it. I'd rather have him be outright rude,” he said, grimacing. “It's creepy.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “I agree it's a little weird,” she admitted. “But I don't think he despises you anymore. He's trying for my sake. And Ron's.”

“Fine, we'll go to Harry's,” he sighed. “But you owe me...”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I owe you what?”

He brushed his fingertips down her throat and traced the delicate skin of her collarbone. Hermione's body thrummed.

“You know what I want,” he said softly.

She bit back a smile. “Again? You already got some this morning.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips along her neck. “So?”

“It depends on how good you are.”

He gave her throat a light nip. “Oh, I'm always good.”

 

* * *

 

 

Christmas afternoon was pleasant at Hermione's parents house where her mother doted on Draco like she normally did and her father discussed football (Draco's new obsession) for hours. The pinnacle of the visit was when Draco surprised them with an enormous and obscenely expensive TV.

They left her parents house with a pile of gifts and enough food to fill a horse cart which all fit very nicely in Hermione's new satchel.

It was snowing when they apparated near Grimmauld place. Snowflakes swirled around them as Draco wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulder, tucking her in close to his side. It was a pleasant stroll, cold but refreshing and as they approached the steps to Harry's home, Draco pulled them to a stop and dropped his arm from her shoulder.

She turned to him, confused.

He seemed to hesitate. “Hermione...” He ran his hands over the front of his suit jacket. “Would you...” he started, then he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed. “I...”

“Draco...” Hermione watched him with growing concern. “Is everything okay?”

He swallowed once then his mouth quirked into a smirk. “How serious was the gift rule with your friends?”

She gave him an exasperated look. “You mean, the rule where we only get gifts for the children and not for the grown ups?” she asked pointedly.

His smirk slid into a cocky grin. “The very one, love.”

She crossed her arms. “What did you do?”

“What do you think?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “What did you get them?”

He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “It's a surprise.”

“A _surprise_?”

He straightened to his full height, his expression a mixture of haughty and playful. “I'm filthy rich and a _Malfoy_.” He shrugged a shoulder and bit back a smile. “It's in my nature to be ostentatious and unpredictable.”

Hermione smoothed down the lapels of his jacket. “This is the opposite of being good, you know.”

“Oh no, I've been bad,” he said, grinning down at her shamelessly. His hands caressed her hips, fingertips brushing up against her bum. “What will you _do_ to me?”

She tried to scowl at him but it was impossible with him touching her the way he was.

“No sexy time for you,” she said, her voice faltering slightly.

His smile widened. “You are brilliant at many things, Hermione Granger,” he said softly. “But bluffing is _not_ one of them.”

She attempted a withering glare but failed miserably as he tilted her chin up and kissed her gently. Her heart rate spiked and a little whimper escaped her lips, much to her annoyance.

He moaned quietly, pulling her even closer, tilting her head to deepen their kiss. Hermione's knees _literally_ weakened. Would he always have this power over her? His hands slipped inside her coat, skimming her waist, up her ribcage then up her—

“Get a room, you two.”

Hermione jumped, breaking away from their kiss to turn and see Ginny standing on her stoop. She was smiling at them, rubbing her hands over her burgeoning baby bump.

“I see you two are still in the ' _can't keep your hands off each other'_ phase,” Ginny added, holding the door open for them.

Draco snorted as he and Hermione approached the front door. “You're one to talk.” He pointed at Ginny's belly as he passed her. “You're on what—baby number 4...or is it 5?”

Ginny smacked his arm playfully. “Happy Christmas, prat.”

Harry met them in the foyer and sure enough, he was sporting his fake, grimace-like smile. He shook Draco's hand stiffly, muttering some robotic greeting. Draco glanced at Hermione and gave her the, _see_ _I told you_ look. Fortunately, Harry's face relaxed into a more natural expression when Hermione greeted him with a hug.

They were soon joined by Molly who was wiping her hands on her apron, ushering them in excitedly. The house was already packed. Most of the Weasley clan and their families were there. Hermione smiled when she saw Pansy who was sprawled on a couch, looking very pregnant and very uncomfortable.

Hermione sat down next to her. She gave Pansy a quick peck on the cheek. “Can I get you anything? A drink, maybe?”

Pansy gave her a long-suffering look. “If you can get this baby out, I would be eternally grateful.”

Hermione smiled. “Still no sign that she wants to come out?”

Pansy shook her head miserably. “She's stubborn like her father,” Pansy said without a shred of irony. “I've tried everything: eating spicy food, going on walks, though I can't stay on my feet very long.” She sighed. “Ron's been shagging me rotten. At least three times a day.”

Hermione winced. “Oh, I-I don't really need to know—”

“Molly told me that's what she did when one of her children didn't want to come out,” Pansy said bluntly.

“Wow, okay—”

“Though I'm not sure how Ron can get it up,” Pansy continued. “I look like a beached whale!”

Hermione quirked her head, staring at her lovely, miserable friend. “You look very pregnant and also very beautiful too, Pansy. And Ron's crazy about you.”

Pansy smiled at her gratefully.

At that moment, Draco came by with a glass of wine for Hermione and an enormous glass of water for Pansy.

“There's barely any room for a baby much less all that water,” Pansy complained.

“I don't care,” Draco said firmly. “It's important for you and the baby. Now, drink up.”

She glared up at him and took the glass reluctantly. “You're very bossy,” she pouted. “Will you be like this when Hermione gets pregnant someday?”

Hermione choked on her wine. Pansy patted her on the back while she continued to glare at Draco.

He looked poised—as he usual did—except for the soft blush of color on his cheeks. His mouth tightened. “Yes,” he said. He bent down and rubbed Pansy's belly. “How is our little princess today?”

Pansy forced down some water. “She's huge.”

Draco laughed quietly then he met Hermione's gaze and gave her a rare, shy smile before walking away to join Ron.

She watched him from across the room. He was relaxed and at ease, laughing with Ron at something George had said. She bit back a smile. _Merlin_ , she was in love with him. Her heart felt like it might burst from her chest.

“You know, I've never seen Draco so happy,” Pansy said, smiling. “Oh, I've seen him miserable plenty of times. And sometimes I've seen him cheerful. But I've never...” She shook her head, like she was pleasantly surprised. “I've never seen him this content before. It's like the happiness has seeped into his bones.” She gave Hermione a soft, grateful look. “I'm so happy he found you.”

“I feel the same way,” Hermione said quietly.

Pansy nodded, her gaze resting on Ron. “It's wonderful, isn't it. Finding a love like that.”

Hermione smiled.

_It is._

The evening went by quickly. There was an abundance of food and drinks and it was fun watching the children tear through their presents. Finally, almost everyone left with the exception of Ron, Pansy, Draco and herself. Harry and Ginny's two children were passed out on the floor while Hermione held their youngest next to Pansy on the couch.

That's when Draco surprised them with his gift—tickets to the next Quidditch World Cup in Italy, the best seats in the house, travel expenses covered and luxury accommodations. Ginny whooped with excitement while Ron stood next to her and openly wept tears of joy.

Harry stared at Draco like he had grown another head for a long moment. Then he blinked once and marched toward Draco, flinging his arms around him. He didn't let go and Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Draco awkwardly patted Harry on the back.

When Harry finally let him go, Ron was next with a hug though it was a little different with Ron crying unabashedly into Draco's shoulder.

“I can't believe it,” Pansy griped, scowling at her husband. “He's crying harder now then when I told him I was _pregnant_.”

After the third group hug from Harry, Ron and Ginny, in which Draco looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up, it was time to leave.

The evening air was colder when Hermione and Draco stepped outside, the snowfall heavier. Fat snowflakes floated gently to the ground where a good thick layer of white carpeted the sidewalks and streets. They strolled down the sidewalk with Hermione burrowed into Draco's side.

“That was a very nice gift you gave them,” she said, peering up at him.

“Which gift to whom?” Draco asked, his voice lofty. “The one I gave to your parents or the one I gave to our friends?”

“ _Our friends?_ ” she said, bumping her hip into his.

Draco squeezed her shoulder. “Yes, our friends. Blaise will, of course, be joining us at the World Cup.”

“It would be weird if he didn't,” she said. “As for Harry, I think the days of him being awkward around you are over.”

“Yes, I'm sure Harry and I will be best mates now,” he said sarcastically.

“Don't be so flippant,” she said. “Remember Pansy and Ron? Who knew you both would get along so well. And now with Harry—you're _in_.”

“ _In_? Merlin, help me,” he muttered. “I would have rethought my gift if I knew Harry would hug me for so long. And Ginny too.” He made a face. “Ron I'm used to, though the bawling was a bit unsettling.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, you can't fool me,” she scolded. “I can see through your Slytherin act.”

“ _Act??_ ”

“Where you pretend not to care.”

“ _Pretend?_ ” he scoffed. “I'll have you know, my shoulder is still wet from Ron crying all over it. And Harry embraced me for over ten minutes straight.” He gave her a look of dismay. “And it was _full_ _body_!”

She laughed loudly. “It was only a minute and he gives everyone full body hugs.”

“It _felt_ like ten bloody minutes,” he grumbled. “Also, the only person I want to give me a full body hug is you.”

“That's so adorably uptight of you, my love.”

He smirked down at her. “Is it uptight that I want our full body hugs to be naked?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are we going back to my place or the Manor for this _full body_ hug?” she asked, using finger quotations on the words _full body._

He pulled her close. “Let me surprise you.”

With a dizzying tug, she was pulled out of existence and flung into another. Draco's hands gripped her waist, steadying her.

She blinked and took in her surroundings. They were at the Manor's gardens. It was beautiful—even more so than usual. The ground was covered in a soft layer of snow, as were the garden's elegant trees and ornate topiaries. Thousands of fairy lights sparkled around them. The tall, intricate lamps that surrounded the walkways illuminated the falling snow. The entire image had a dreamy, romantic quality.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Hermione,” Draco said softly.

She peered up at him.

He visibly swallowed. “I...I wanted to...” His face was flushed under the glow of the fairy lights. “On Christmas Eve I wanted to...then earlier today but...”

His hand went to his wrist—fingers ducking under the cuff of his jacket. It took her a moment to realize he was fiddling with the cufflinks she had given him. He cleared his throat. There was a snowflake stuck to his eyelash.

She watched him, confused.

He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled something out of it.

Hermione caught a glimpse of it. It was a small, dark box. Her heart stopped.

Draco fumbled the box, dropping it before catching it. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered.

Her brain stuttered, eyes narrowing in on the box in his hands.

He groaned loudly. “I can't believe I just said _fuck_ while I'm trying to...Merlin, I'm cocking this up!”

“It's okay, Draco. It's okay,” she heard herself say.

He stared at her and ran a nervous hand through his hair. Slowly, he dropped to one knee. “Hermione.” He took a deep breath. “Hermione, I know we haven't been together that long but...”

She could barely understand a word he was saying.

He took another deep breath, steeling himself. “But I...I know you're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with and—”

Hermione began to nod—slowly at first then frantically.

“Uh huh, okay,” she blurted. “Sure!”

“ _Sure?_ ” he repeated, staring up at her.

Her heart was hammering in her throat. “I know what you're going to ask, Draco,” she said in a shaky voice.

He huffed a laugh. “Well, I'm glad the answer is _sure,_ but I would still like to officially ask you.”

“Okay.”

“Because I practiced a lot. In the mirror.”

“Alright.”

“I even practiced with Blaise and now he won't stop making fun of me.”

“I understand.”

“Okay, good.” He glanced down at his knee. “My pants are getting soaked.”

Hermione bit back a smile.

“Alright. I'm going to ask you now,” he stated seriously, though she could she see he was much more relaxed by the set of his shoulders. He gazed up at her and smiled softly. “Hermione Granger, you are the most incredible, the most brilliant, the most beautiful, kindest witch I know and I ...” His voice broke and he looked down.

Hermione's chest swelled, her eyes filling with tears.

He took a long moment to steady himself then gazed up at her. He lifted the box and opened it. His eyes glistened in the dim light. “Will you do me the great honor of marrying me?”

She stared into the tiny box. There sat a ring with a single large, round diamond perched in a silvery setting so delicate and thin, only magic could've held it together. It was elegant and simple and utterly perfect.

Draco cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “Uh, this is the part where you say sure.”

She beamed at him, tears now falling freely down her cheeks. “Sure,” she whispered.

He jumped to his feet and pulled her into a hug, lifting her off her feet. His breath was hot against her ear as he whispered thank you over and over again.

He set her down and he kissed the tears on her cheeks. They gazed down at the ring.

“It's beautiful,” she said in a hushed voice.

“It's goblin-made,” he said. “I thought about giving you one of the family heirlooms but...” He shook his head. “But I wanted a fresh, clean start.” He plucked the ring from the box. “Old, outdated beliefs are done with.” He grasped her hand with trembling fingers. “New traditions for us starts now.”

Hermione was smiling so wide, her cheeks were starting to hurt. “Okay.”

His eyebrows jumped. “ _Okay?_ You really are having a way with words tonight, Granger.”

“Granger? So you're okay with me keeping my name?”

He blinked at her. “Uh...”

“I'm just kidding.” She brushed the snowflakes from his face then kissed him on the cheek. “I'll hyphenate.”

“Hyphenate?” he murmured to himself.

“Okay, I'm ready for my ring now.”

He nodded and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a little loose and Hermione was just about to comment on that fact when the ring's delicate band slowly shrank down to fit her finger perfectly.

“Oh,” she gasped. She wondered if magic would never cease to surprise her.

“It looks gorgeous on you,” Draco said with a smile.

She lifted her hand to inspect it closely. It sparkled like fire under the fairy lights.

“It's charmed,” he said, taking her hand. “Like a portkey. If you're ever in trouble, or without your wand, it'll transport you here—where you will be safe.” He squeezed her hand. “Your home.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes filling with tears again. “My home.”

His hand slipped behind her neck, thumb skimming her jawline. Gently, he tilted her head back and kissed her softly.

Hermione melted into him, whimpering when his lips parted her own. His hands slid down her back and gripped her hips tight.

He pulled away, resting his forehead on hers. “I think you should try on that little nightgown I got you,” he said, breathing hard.

She rubbed her nose against his. “Mmmhmm.”

“Maybe we try out that Caelesitia Sensatio too?” He smiled and kissed her temple. “That sounds like fun.”

“That's very presumptuous of you,” she said, grabbing his arse and rubbing against him. “What makes you think any of that's going to happen?”

He huffed a surprised laugh. “I don't know. A lucky _guess_?” He kissed her again—this time hard and needy. “Or maybe I cast a nice, little warming spell and I take you right here.”

Hermione moaned and nodded.

“DID SHE SAY YES, DARLING??” a voice shouted behind them.

Hermione jumped so hard, her forehead banged into Draco's chin. His head snapped back. He winced and clutched his chin, glaring in the direction of the voice.

“Mother??”

Narcissa Malfoy peeked around an enormous, dragon-shaped bush. She was surrounded by a small army of bundled-up house elves.

He gave her an exasperated look. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“What??” she exclaimed righteously. “ _Eavesdropping??_ Malfoys never eavesdrop!”

Around her, all the house elves shook their head in unison.

She strode toward them and Hermione marveled at her regal bearing considering she had a light dusting of snow covering her hair and clothes and that she had been clearly sneaking around _and_ _then_ lied about it.

“I felt you enter the wards,” she explained simply.

The tiniest house elf stepped forward and squeaked, “Yes, and us house elves did the eavesdroppin' not the missus.”

Narcissa gazed at her son innocently. “See. I told you.” She rubbed her hands excitedly. “Now, I'm guessing from those happy smiles you said yes, Hermione.”

“Yes, I did,” Hermione said, feeling shy suddenly. She still was a little nervous around her future mother-in-law.

“Oh, that's wonderful!” She rushed over to Hermione and hugged her. “I was hoping Draco would propose to you here.” She squeezed Hermione again and then walked to Draco who kissed her dutifully on the cheek.

Narcissa was practically shaking with excitement. “Oh, there is so much to do!” She snapped her fingers and a quill and piece of parchment materialized next to her.

“Uh, Mother...” Draco murmured. “Let's not scare her off.”

Narcissa waved him away. “Nonsense! There is nothing to be scared of! Honestly, Draco!” She grasped Hermione's hands. “At 10 o'clock sharp tomorrow morning, we'll all have a nice, long breakfast together.” Next to her, the quill scribbled furiously on the parchment.

“Then, you and I will go dress hunting,” Narcissa continued in a rush. “There are several boutiques I think you might like. That will take several hours. We'll take tea afterward and discuss venues. I have _many_ ideas about that as well. Then, of course, we must discuss _when_ the wedding should be!” Narcissa laughed like she said something hilarious.

Hermione stared at the quill which was now moving at a blazing speed. “Uh—”

“I think springtime is quite lovely, don't you? Oh Salazar, that only gives us several months to plan!” Narcissa exclaimed delightedly.

“Afterward, we'll have Draco treat us to a delicious and outrageously expensive dinner.” She squeezed Hermione's hand. “We must show off that ring!”

Hermione could only nod at the overwhelming onslaught.

Narcissa glanced at her son and Hermione, her eyes filling with happy tears. “Oh, I can't believe it,” she gushed. “My son is going to marry a future Minister of Magic!” Her eyes narrowed in triumph. “I can't wait to rub it in Lady Greengrass's face!”

“Okay, thank you, mother, that will do,” Draco said as he gently crowded his mother away from Hermione. “We'll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

“Wonderful!” she said, kissing Hermione on the cheek then Draco. “I have so many letters to write. Goodnight, my darlings!” She snapped her fingers and the quill and parchment vanished. Then she whirled around and swept away toward the direction of the Manor.

The house elves bowed to them both, then followed after their mistress.

“She already has the dress chosen, doesn't she?” Hermione said, watching Narcissa's retreating back.

“Yes, I'm pretty sure she does or at least a few dresses to choose from. She'll give you the illusion of control, which is nice, I suppose. Oh, and the venue too, probably.” Draco sighed. “She's just really excited,” he said apologetically. “She's been planning my wedding for decades.”

“I get it.” She glanced up at him, smirking. “Next, you'll tell me she has a nursery already to go.”

Draco bit his lip. “Uh, would it terrify you if I said she did?”

“Seriously? I was joking.”

“Maybe more than one nursery?”

Hermione blinked. “ _What?_ ”

Draco held out his arms and gave her a tentative smile. “Welcome to the family.”

She gave him a look. “Mmhmm...”

He looped his arms around her waist. “Look, if my mother gets too intense, I'll tell her to ease up,” he said. “She loves you, Hermione. She won't want you to be uncomfortable.”

She gave him a small smile. “Does she really love me?”

He peered into her eyes. “She's crazy about you,” he promised. He pulled her closer. “Now, where were we before my mother jumped out and scared us half to death?”

“You mentioned something about a warming charm and shagging me here on the grounds,” she said, snuggling into his body. “Although I'm thinking that's not the best idea since there's a chance your mother may show up again.”

“No, that's out,” he sighed.

She smiled up at him and nuzzled his neck. “I guess we'll just have to go back to my flat then?”

“And maybe have you try on that nightie?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course. We have to see if it fits.”

Draco made a pleased sound. “And that purple dildo Ginny inappropriately got you?”

“Yes, I hear it has lots of variations.”

He pulled away to look down at her. “You haven't tried them all?”

She gave him a look. “There are 238. No, I have not tried them all.”

“Well, then...” He took ahold of her hand, thumbing her new ring before kissing her knuckles. The ring glittered like a star. “We have a long night ahead of us,” he said with his trademark smirk.

She rolled her eyes then paused. His tone was light—snarky like it usually was but there was something else in his voice. He often did this, said something that seemed insignificant but was actually meaningful. It was very Slytherin of him.

She gazed up at him and he smiled at her, soft and vulnerable.

“Was that supposed to be a metaphor?” she asked. “That we have a long life ahead of us?”

His smile widened, eyes crinkling around the corners. Her heart skipped.

“Sure,” he said, pulling her into a kiss before apparating them away.

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been bouncing around my head for awhile. It took many different turns but each turn had no real ending so I left it alone. Finally, I kind of forced myself to finish it and I really hope it works and that you enjoy it. Also, there may be typos. My apologies!


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